


For You

by deweydrops



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fever, Healing, Illnesses, Logyn - Freeform, Niflheimr | Niflheim, Plague, magic springs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deweydrops/pseuds/deweydrops
Summary: When Prince Loki falls gravely ill, the healers of Asgard are helpless to find a cure. Sigyn undertakes a dangerous mission in order to bring back the one elixir that may help. Intended as a stand-alone but in my mind it's set between the events of Magic and Keys.





	1. Chapter 1

The sweating sickness, as it quickly become known, since such a pestilence had never been observed before, swept through the Asgard, first appearing on the outskirts of the realm and encroaching ever closer to the city at the center. Healers from surrounding villages arrived at the palace nearly every day, hoping an antidote of some form had been discovered, only to return to their charges with no good news. Though survival was possible for the younger and very healthy, the sickness claimed many lives over the course of merely a few weeks.

Those afflicted, according to the notes Loki had taken from an earlier discussion among the royal advisors, were said to experience a sudden onset of disorientation, fever, shortness of breath, and red sores all over their skin. This was followed by delirium, convulsions, a rapid heart beat, and of course the profuse sweating from which the sickness derived its name. The unfortunate soul would likely lose consciousness for a time, days or perhaps a week or two, before either making a rare recovery or succumbing to the illness.

Though no such cases had appeared in the city, the pestilence posed a serious threat to the realm. The council seemed split on how to handle the crisis. Some felt a full quarantine necessary until the danger passed. Others felt healers from other realms should be consulted. Still others felt this was an act of nature, and to intervene might upset the natural order. Thor, perhaps realizing that illness could not be beaten out with a hammer, had little to say on the topic. Loki had spent most of the morning observing the arguments, not yet ready to offer his own insight.

“It is said there is a spring of healing waters in Niflheim.” Sigyn's soft voice pulled Loki from his thoughts. He glanced down from his notes to find her peering up at him as she lay with her head against his shoulder. Their afternoon magic lesson began in the study but ended, as they often did, with the two of them wrapped in each other's arms on Loki's long velveteen chaise.

“I thought you were dozing, my sweet.” Loki smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Not peeking at royal matters.”

“Forgive my insolence,” Sigyn stretched her arms before draping them over Loki's chest once more. “But it occurs to me...One drop from those waters can heal even the most dire of afflictions, even from those on the brink of death. Perhaps we could collect a bottle. It may turn the tide of the sickness.”

“I am familiar with the spring you speak of, Sigyn,” Loki replied, arching his back to rid himself of impending stiffness. “That would be no easy task. The spring is guarded by a creature so vicious and cunning that no warrior who has crossed it has survived to tell the tale. Even those who dwell in Niflheim stay far from the spring.”

“Only a suggestion, my prince. I'm certain the king's council has devised the best course of action,” Sigyn murmured, bowing her head slightly in deference.

Loki's free hand idly carded through her hair. Talking of such matters with her would be frowned upon, given that she was neither a high-born noble nor a male of the court. Yet he'd come to value Sigyn's opinions, plainspoken as she was. “We're very much divided, I'm afraid,” he admitted. “A city-wide quarantine is not out of the question.”

Sigyn's body tensed against his. “For how long?”

“As long as necessary, I suppose.”

Sigyn straightened, her brow furrowed with worry. “Then we will not hear word from the outer villages for some time.”

“I'm afraid so, though we've not reached a decision yet.”

Sigyn sighed, her eyes cast to the ground. Each day she waited for word from her home village, dreading the day the sickness would strike there. He knew she worried for her family. She'd not heard from her sister since earliest cases were discovered. “By then it may already be too late,” she whispered.

Loki set aside his notes and sat up to caress her shoulders. “You are right to be concerned, my darling. Though the pestilence is thought to have passed over certain areas.”

“It seems so heartless, to shut ourselves away while our neighbors suffer.” Sigyn drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin against her kneecaps. “Sitting idle instead of helping.”

Loki pressed his lips to the top of her head, reminded once more of why he cherished her- a rare soul, possessed of both a tender heart and a strong will. Gently he eased her back into his arms. “The sickness may yet burn itself out. Such a swift-moving illness cannot last.”

“But how many will perish before it does so?” Sigyn asked. His words did little to calm her worries. “And what shall happen if it arrives here? As densely populated as the city is, it may be a wildfire.”

However much he wished to reassure her, in truth her fears were well placed. And she would see through any attempt at well-meaning optimistic falsehoods.

“In that case perishing on Niflheim in search of the healing spring might well be a mercy,” he said after a long while. “Though I suspect we shall not find ourselves so desperate.”

 

Later Loki joined Thor and his friends in the sparring yards, mostly at Thor's behest. A few Einherjar were scattered about, training in small groups despite no impending battles or looming threats. He'd hoped to excuse himself before long, as an inexplicable exhaustion had set in. Yet to tire out so quickly would only invite mockery, and so he persevered despite his sluggish reflexes and diminishing focus.

Though the day had been cool, the early evening breeze did little to assuage the hot discomfort in his torso that spread into his limbs. The longer he sparred, the more he felt as though he were boiling from the inside. He drew in deep breaths, but air evaded him amid the suffocating fire within.

He'd just barely dodged Fandral's sword but hadn't been mindful his footing, only realizing his error when Fandral took quick advantage of Loki's faltered balance and knocked him to the ground.

Loki gasped as he hit the cobblestone, not from pain so much as the sudden quaking of his legs and heat weighing on his chest made breathing nearly impossible.

“And one more foe vanquished,” Fandral boasted with a flourish of his sword. He stepped back and waited for Loki to stand, but the prince just barely managed to sit up. He slumped forward, chest heaving, as rigors overtook his hands. He dropped his daggers and clutched against his heart, as though he could quell the pounding by touch alone.

“Feigning injury? Really?” Fandral snorted. “Surely you don't think me so simple as to fall for _that._ ”

“Hmph. Seems he's run out of tricks at last,” Volstagg chortled.

Loki's typical sharp wit failed him as the others snickered. Their derision meant little to him, so preoccupied was he with the tormenting heat. He drew in several gasping breaths but found he could not fill his lungs. He scrambled to his feet, swiftly departing the sparring yards without a word.

“Don't be cross, brother!” Thor called as Loki retreated. “It was merely a jest!”

Loki scarcely heard Thor's calls, as he struggled to catch his breath. His heart pounded as though he'd been running for hours, and he staggered behind a column. He leaned against the golden pillar, hidden from view, already pulling away at his outer tunic in order to escape the unbearable suffocating. Yet even without his heavier garments, the heat bore down on his insides. He glanced at his forearms to find reddened sores marring his skin.

“No...” Loki gasped as sweat dripped into his eyes.

“Brother?” Thor's voice was the last sound he heard as his vision blurred.

*

Sigyn paced along the back wall of the great library, tracing her fingertip along the spines of old books as the hour dragged on. Loki was to meet her here after his sparring, but as yet he hadn't appeared.

_Probably Thor insisting he stay out there, wanting his way as usual._ Sigyn huffed. She strode down the long aisles of shelves towards the library entrance, hoping Thor would at last let Loki go if she were to beckon for him.

As she opened the library doors, several healers ran in the direction of the royal apartments, their arms full of towels, salves, and bottles of cooling water. Several guards lined the corridor to the royal chambers, more than usual for this time of day. Alarmed murmurs rippled among the passersby at the commotion.

Sigyn's irritation vanished as she sprinted over to the corridor, only to be stopped by one of the guards. “None may enter,” said the guard. “Only healers.”

“What has happened?”

The guard bowed his head. “Prince Loki has fallen ill. It is the sweating sickness.”

“ _No_ ,” Sigyn gasped, her heart dropping. “He was perfectly fine a few hours ago.”

“He collapsed in the sparring yards not long ago,” another guard answered.

Sigyn covered her mouth in shock, her mind racing. So the sickness had arrived to the city. And it struck the one soul she treasured most of all. She dreaded to think what the pestilence was doing to him right now, laying helpless in his chamber.

“May...may I see him?”

“I'm afraid not,” the guard said. “The sickness cannot be allowed to spread.”

Just then the queen's incensed voice echoed far down the corridor. “ _I will not be kept from my son!_ ” she cried, silencing voices who implored her not to enter Loki's chambers.

Sigyn stepped back from the guards, painfully aware she had no right to the prince even in his suffering. However much she cared for him, she was neither royalty nor a noble, and thus in no position to insist on seeing him. For all her worries, there was nothing she could do. She stepped away from the guards, blinking tears from her eyes.

She reached the gardens before her fears at last broke her composure.

 

Two days passed, and still the prince did not improve. Sigyn lingered near the royal corridor though she dared not ask to see the prince. She watched as healers hurried back and forth, carrying all manner medicines, and she strained to hear any piece of news into the Loki's welfare. What precious little information she could gather pointed to an ever-worsening condition.

She waited until she could the corridor went silent, then stepped into the gardens. There she would wander along the walls and trellises until the sun set, hoping the prince had survived one more day.

As she walked, she came upon Thor, seated on the steps leading to the fountain. His trademark arrogance replaced by a sullen defeat.

“Prince Thor?” Sigyn took a cautious step forward, uncertain whether she would provoke his wrath by bothering him.

Instead the older prince looked up, looking for all the world like a lost, frightened child.

“You fear for your brother,” Sigyn went on, joining Thor on the steps. She could see his eyes water as she came closer.

Thor nodded. “Each day the healers surround him, yet he only grows weaker.”

Sigyn did not expect good news, yet Thor's confirmation, along with his consternation, brought all her worst fears to the surface.

“So it is true? We are likely to lose him?”

“So it seems,” Thor murmured, wiping at his eyes. “My brother...”

Sigyn closed her eyes, dreading the thought of a world without Loki. “Thor, I know I've no right to ask this of you,” she began. “But as I cannot tell him myself...”

Thor looked at her. “They will not let you see him?”

“No,” Sigyn confessed. “He means so much to me, and yet I cannot even say goodbye.”

Thor stood, gesturing toward the palace. “Whatever you wish to tell him, you may do so yourself. This way.”

Thor lead her down the corridor, his glare keeping the guards from protesting. They arrived at Loki's chambers. Cold air chilled her skin as the golden doors opened. The healers did all they could to keep the room as cool as possible, though they knew it would bring Loki little comfort.

She entered the bedchamber to find Frigga by Loki's beside, grasping his hand. The prince's eyes were closed. His chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths, and sweat streamed from his forehead. He'd been changed into a loose-fitting healing tunic, and his skin had turned waxy and pallid, with his neck and arms mottled with red sores. In a far corner of the room several sweat-soaked sheets and tunics lay in a pile on the floor, and Loki's current garment would need changed soon, wet marks already visible on the fabric.

“Loki...” Sigyn whispered, taking a few small steps forward.

The queen now noticed Sigyn's presence.

“My queen,” Sigyn paused, bowing her head. “Please forgive my intrusion. I only wished to see how the prince fares. He is...very dear to me.”

“Sweet girl,” the queen beckoned Sigyn forward. “It is no intrusion. I am certain my son would welcome your visit.”

Sigyn moved to the free side of Loki's bed, gingerly taking his hand. His reddened skin was hot to the touch. She could feel his heart palpitations against his wrist.

“My prince,” she whispered, her heart breaking. “It is Sigyn. I am sorry it has taken me so long to come to you.” Loki's eyelids fluttered, and soft whimpers of pain escaped his lips, yet he did not respond.

“He so cares for you,” the queen remarked. “Perhaps your voice may bring him comfort.”

Sigyn smoothed back the dampened hair from Loki's forehead. “How bad is it?”

“Eir tells me the sickness advances through him as it has no other patient she has seen.” Frigga gazed at her younger son's resting form. “He'd already lost consciousness by the end of the first day.”

His breathing changed, now hoarse and irregular. He grimaced as his body went rigid for a moment, then thrashed violently beneath the sheets. He cried in agony, gripping the mattress as the wave of tremors tore through his body. Red sores broke out, covering ever more of his skin.

The queen looked on in horror for a moment, then turned away, fighting back tears until Loki quieted at last. “The healers say the convulsions will increase as the sickness runs its course...” she shook her head. “Yet I fear what will happen once they stop.”

“I will go to Niflheim,” Sigyn said, her eyes on her ailing prince. “I will bring back water from the healing spring for him.” The words shocked her even as she said them. The idea that she would face the notorious creature guarding the spring hadn't crossed her mind until she saw Loki's suffering.

The queen turned to her. “You would risk your own life to save him?”

Sigyn nodded, her determination growing as her plan coalesced in her mind. “And I will bring back enough to heal the others. But I will go, now, before I am too late.”

The queen sighed as she dabbed more sweat from Loki's forehead. She shook her head. “Your bravery is admirable, dear girl. Yet I would be a terrible queen if I were to allow so innocent a soul as yours to undertake such a dangerous task.”

Loki clenched his jaw, arching his back as another wave of tremors shook his body. His scream tore through his throat, sending tears down the corner of his eyes and cracking his dried lips.

Frigga choked back a sob. “Norns he is in such pain. Yet we are helpless to bring him comfort.”

“My queen,” Sigyn took a deep breath, as Loki's agony had shaken her to the core. “What good are my gifts if I cannot use them to help someone who means as much to me as Loki? If...if this creature of Niflheim is truly too powerful for me, then at least I will have given my life in the hopes of easing your son's suffering. I cannot bear to see him in such agony and do nothing to stop it. ”

Frigga closed her eyes for a moment before rising. “Come with me.”

Sigyn followed the queen into her royal chambers. Frigga stopped before the spinning wheel in her parlor, lifting a swath of yellow fabric. It looked to be a wide, golden belt.

“This will allow you some protection,” the queen said, handing her the belt. “Use it wisely.” As Sigyn took hold of it, she noted the strong, spun gold interwoven into the fabric. It thrummed with magic and strength despite its delicate appearance.

“Thank you,” Sigyn replied. “Now all I require is my cloak. And a bottle.”

Before Sigyn departed for the Bifrost, she returned once more to Loki's bedchamber.

“I shall endeavor to return very soon, my Loki,” she whispered, lightly kissing his forehead. “But if I do not, please know...I love you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn confronts the dangerous creature guarding the healing spring.

Sigyn landed in Niflheim, steadying herself after the abrupt landing from the Bifrost. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the twilight and clouds of mist that hung in the atmosphere. She took a look around, finding nothing but silence and cold murky ground.

She set off toward the North, where the map indicated the spring should be. She moved cautiously, mist obscuring most of her view. A heavy, desolate loneliness came over her, a sense that she might well perish here, alone and forgotten in the fog. She pushed her fears aside and moved along.

At long last she came to a stream that seemed to lead through an imposing forest, though no living creature could be found here. Only the piles of bones and tarnished, damaged armor told her this place held a dark secret. A soft fiddle melody began to fill the air, seeming to come from within the stream itself. As she listened, the music took an a familiar tune from her childhood. She gave in to the urge to follow the music, which grew louder as she followed the stream into the forest.

Her fear subsided as the melody continued, seamlessly shifting from one beloved old tune to another with uncanny precision. As she listened, she knew she could not stop until the found the source of the beautiful tunes, the mysterious fiddler who gave such joy to the foreboding air.

She ran now, as fast as she could manage in the dark, unfriendly terrain. Gnawed bones, old weapons, and rusted-over armor lay in ever-increasing piles along the stream, but Sigyn scarcely noticed in her eagerness to find the fiddler.

The stream led her to a clearing, the water flowing freely around dozens of large rocks. On one rock, in the middle of the water, sat the fiddler, clad in a simple gray tunic and hat, facing away from Sigyn as the he played on.

Sigyn stepped lightly across the stream bank, moving closer to the fiddler without wishing to disturb the melody. She yearned to hear the fiddle play for the rest of her days, if only its wielder would allow her to do so. No other thought entered her mind as the music crowded her thought, muted all other feelings, ceased all her worries.

As she neared the fiddler, she could see the curling chestnut hair peeking from beneath the hat shift to a jet black shade, the hat and tunic change from gray to a deep green in the darkness. Or perhaps it was just a trick of Sigyn's imagination.

Now the fiddler turned to her, flashing a sly grin. His eyes appeared blue for a moment, and in a blink turned green. “Good evening, my lady,” the silky smooth voice like honey in Sigyn's ears. “Shall I play for you?”

Sigyn stepped forward, the toes of her boots dipping into the shallow pool. The music filled her ears, drawing her in as no sound ever had. “Yes,” she breathed. “Never have I encountered so fine a musician as you.”

The fiddler nodded, his deft fingers not missing a note as they glided across the strings with precision, the bow almost dancing over the fiddle. Now the tune morphed into a softer ballad that pulled as Sigyn's heartstrings. Oh how she yearned to stay here, listening to nothing but the fiddle. Surely she could not return home, for she could not bear to spend the rest of her days pining for such enchanting music.

Sigyn stepped further into the creek, now reaching the fiddler's boulder. The water flowed over and around her ankles, yet she paid it no mind. “All other music will sound so dull now that I have heard you. I do not wish to hear anyone else play.”

The fiddler raised an eyebrow. “You shall not have to, if you stay here.”

Sigyn grinned. “Oh, yes. I would love to stay.”

The fiddler met her eyes. “Ah, you wish to join me?”

“Yes.”

The fiddler leaned in closer. “Forever?”

“Yes.”

“Take my hand.”

Sigyn reached her hand out. The fiddler paused, taking her hand in his with an iron grip. He flashed a rictus grin, revealing a gaping maw of sharp jagged teeth. His eyes flashed with a bright green glow.

Sigyn snapped out of the enchantment once the music ceased, and gasped in horror at her error. She tried to free her hand, but the creature was far too strong. Even her feet, submerged in the water, were powerless to move.

The fiddler cackled, though his voice sounded far more like a guttural neigh than any true laugh. At once his form changed into that of a horse-like creature with gills and fins on its lower half. In the blink of an eye the creature had flipped Sigyn onto its back, and despite her efforts she could not dismount. It reared for a moment before galloping into the deep end of the stream, plunging into the cold depths, silencing Sigyn's scream as they dropped beneath the water's surface.

The stream proved far deeper than it appeared on the surface, and the creature pulled her further and further down with its powerful fins. Sigyn thrashed helplessly on the creature's back, her hands reaching in vain for the surface. Silently she cursed her foolishness. Of course the music had been enchanted. Of course the creature would overpower her once she'd touched the water. How else could such a creature lower the defenses of so many warriors?

Now, it seemed, she would join those corpses scatter along the stream bank. Another hapless victim seeking the healing spring only to find nothing more than a watery grave. The healing waters of the famed spring would not have a soul. She would perish as the creature devoured her, perhaps her remains washing up onto the shores. And Loki...

Loki.

_No._ Sigyn thought. An image of Loki, delirious and panting, crying out in pain, filled her mind. Her resignation replaced at once by anger, Sigyn ceased her futile thrashing. Loki would not be lost to the sweating sickness. She would not allow this creature to separate her from her beloved prince. Not after she'd come so far. Not when Loki needed her. So long as she still lived, she could find a way to best the creature. If she could not get off, she would make the creature release her.

She summoned her magic, yellow light concentrating in a small, intense ball of heat in her fingers. The magic burned so hot it caused the water around it to bubble. She pressed her hands into the creature's back, singeing its flesh. The creature neighed in pain, bucking Sigyn off its back with a powerful thrust of its tail.

Freed, she swam towards the surface, allowing the natural current to carry her as much as possible. Far below, the creature's enraged neigh echoed through the waters. She swan faster, knowing it would not allow her to get away so easily.

At last she closed in on the surface, pulling herself up onto a jagged boulder. She gasped, sweet relief filling her spirit as air filled her lungs.

Her respite was cut short by the heavy splash behind her. The creature had returned, breaking the surface seconds later. She turned to see it glaring at her with glowing green eyes.

She scrambled onto the rocks, her feet slipping along the wet stones. She needed to get to onto the dry land, where the creature could not overpower her. She bounded out of the stream once she'd reached the shallow end, weighed down by her soaked garments.

Yet the creature was not far behind. Heavy hooves crashed against the rocks as the creature galloped towards her, closing in.

Almost at the stream bank, Sigyn pushed all of her strength into her legs, making one final stride to dry land.

She leaped.

The creature leaped too.

Just as she pulled herself onto the grass, the creature's weight came down on her. Sharp teeth bit down hard as Sigyn swung her legs out from under the creature, squirming away from the hooves. Her cloak caught in the creature's mouth, tearing apart as Sigyn evaded capture.

Sigyn dashed over the bank, tearing through the wet grass until she reached the dry land. She leaned against a nearby tree, catching her breath. Through the heavy mist she could see the creature standing in the stream, its glowing green eyes fixed on her, a strip of her torn cloak in its jaws. The malice in its gaze did nothing to still her trembling limbs or pounding heart. The stench of rotting, half-digested flesh hit her nose, causing her stomach to roil in disgust.

She straightened as she met the creature's gaze. Though she was safe for now, away from the water, the creature would not allow her to reach the spring. She would have to get close to the water to fill her bottle, and it would strike when she did.

Unless, she were to gain control over the creature.

She reached down to her waist and gingerly fingered the gold sash Frigga gave her. She'd wrapped it around her waist for protection, but it occurred to her that perhaps the sash was not meant to secure her, but rather contain a threat. She considered the creature, standing at the stream's edge, with it's glowing gaze fixed on her. She'd need to get close to it again, yet if she simply walked up to it, the creature would see right through her.

Slowly, she walked along the treeline, watching the creature from the corner of her eye. The creature did not move, only stared as Sigyn continued following along the stream bank through the forest. She walked on, lightly tugging the sash off her waist as she moved. The creature followed, keeping pace with Sigyn despite making no noise as it trailed through the stream.

In the distance, she caught sight of a rocky embankment near the edge of the forest. Shimmering, bright blue water trickled from between the loose rocks, settling in a small pond. The healing spring.

Sigyn cast a side-long glance at the creature. It trailed her, but was closing in near the water's edge. She had to move fast, for she doubted it would allow her to go much further without attacking.

Beneath her cloak, she slipped the sash between her hands, lifting it up as she whispered the enchantment: “ _With this sash I bind thee.”_ The fabric shimmered briefly as she imbued it with her magic before returning to normal. She held it steady in one hand, hiding it from the creature's view.

Just a few steps before her, a shallow pool had formed in the muddy ground along the stream bank. Just deep enough to allow a footprint, it would have to do. She took a deep breath, sash at the ready, and dipped her toe into the muddied pool.

The creature seized the opportunity, leaping upon Sigyn the instant her body touched the water.

Sigyn seized her opportunity, unleashing the sash as the creature dove over her. She hooked the ends of the sash together around the creature's powerful neck, securing the fabric tightly in her hands. The creature thrashed, but found itself unable to attack Sigyn as the enchanted sash bound its power.

Sigyn smirked, tying the ends of the sash into a tight knot, gripping the ends with one hand. The creature grunted and neighed in protest, but nevertheless obeyed as Sigyn tugged it forward, compelling it to guide her the rest of the way to the spring.

“Hush,” Sigyn tutted as the creature protested the binding. “If you did not wish to incur my wrath you should not have tried to drown me.” The creature whinnied one last time before trudging along the stream bank in grudging silence.

At last they came to the edge of the forest, finding the embankment from which the healing spring flowed. The water glimmered with a clearer, brighter blue than she'd ever seen, and as she looked into the spring she could see the soft green pebbles at the bottom.

She drew the heavy glass bottle from her satchel, relieved it had not cracked during her struggle. She pulled off the stopper and knelt beside the spring. Water flowed into the bottle, gradually filling until the glass glowed as brilliantly as the spring itself. Once the bottle filled to the neck, she replaced the stopper, hoping she'd collected enough to save Asgard.

To save Loki.

At once, she called for Heimdall. The wretched creature and mists of Niflheim vanished as the Bifrost opened, bringing her back to Asgard. She raced past the astonished gatekeeper, clutching the bottle close. The distance between the bridge and the palace seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but she ran on, determined not to lose hope that she could still heal her prince.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The creature Sigyn encounters is loosely based on the Nokken in Norse folklore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn returns with the healing waters, but is she too late to save the prince?

New cases of the sweating sickness popped up in scores throughout the city, sending so many unwell citizens to the healing rooms and stretching the already frantic healers even further. Soon they ran out of room for more makeshift cots, and set up tents along the palace courtyard just to keep the ill comfortable.

Such a crisis might well have been realms away from where Frigga sat, watching over her son as the sickness wrenched its way through his body. They'd kept the bedchamber so chilled she could see her breath, but it brought little comfort to her son. The convulsions had given way to steady tremors, and he wheezed softly from his ragged throat. She pressed her fingers into his wrist, just barely detecting his heartbeat.

“My precious son,” Frigga whispered, blinking away her tears. She dabbed a small cloth against Loki's forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that spilled onto the pillow. He looked so frail, so helpless as he lay in bed. His eyes fluttered beneath their lids but still he did not wake.

Frigga recalled the first moment she'd held Loki as an infant. The initial shock when Odin unveiled him once he'd returned from the Jotunheim quickly gave way to a deep affection that soon blossomed into a love as strong as that which she'd held for Thor the moment Odin passed the small, neglected orphan into her arms. He'd cried when he first opened his eyes on Asgard, so startled was he by waking in an entirely different realm than the one he'd been taken from, now in the care of a stranger. Yet he was soon calmed when she'd bounced him against her knee a few times, and last the tears changed to delighted babbles.

She so wished for a return to those days, when his distresses were limited to scraped knees and bee stings. Only a few amusing illusions and a poultice were needed to ease his pains back then. As he'd grown other concerns began to weigh on her younger son's mind, and smaller hurts grew larger and deeper. So long as there were certain truths of which she could not speak, she could do little to ease his sufferings now. And now even with all her powers as queen, she could only watch as the sickness threatened to claim him at last.

“Oh Norns, please do not take him from me,” Frigga pleaded into the air as tears spilled from her eyes. “I would sooner be taken in his stead if you must claim a soul this day.”

 

Sigyn rushed through the palace, ignoring the protests of the guards as she made her way to the royal apartments. Behind her, surprised gasps and whispers filled the halls. She paid them no heed, so urgent her need to find the prince.

She passed the throne room, Thor caught sight of her and ceased his conversation among his friends. The Warriors Three and Sif followed his gaze.

She reached Loki's chambers, finding dozens of healers, as well as one of the temple priests kneeling before the bed alongside a tearful Frigga. They surrounded Loki, who lay limp on the bed, deep shadows beneath his eyes. Her heart sank. Had she arrived too late after all?

The queen looked up from her vigil, trails of tears streaking down her cheeks as she looked at Sigyn. The healers and priest paused their work, turning to stare at her.

At a loss for words, Sigyn held up the bottle of healing water. Eir stepped forward, taking the bottle from her hands.

The chief healer tipped a small drop of the water into Loki's slightly parted lips. The drop slid into his mouth. The queen, the healers, and Sigyn in back of the room, watched.

Nothing happened.

Not at first. But slowly Loki's breaths deepened, his chest rising and falling in a regular, slow pattern.

Eir placed the back of her hand against the prince's forehead. “His fever is breaking.”

Loki's eyes fluttered open. Eir and the queen exchanged relieved glances as the bewildered prince surveyed his chamber, surrounded by healers and a mother weeping with joy. Rarely was he the subject of such celebration, and he'd woke with little memory of what transpired.

“Brother!” Thor charged into the chambers, practically knocking aside all who stood in his path, including Sigyn. “You're better!” He jostled the still-dazed Loki on the shoulder.

“Not quite,” said Eir, lightly shooing Thor away. “He still has to rest until his strength returns, but the water did its work.”

Sigyn, crowded out of the bedchamber in the flurry of activity since the prince woke, heard Eir's words. Relieved that her prince would live to see many more days, Sigyn almost stepped forward to greet him. Yet she held back, watching the queen, the elder prince, and the healers at work. However fond she was of the prince, she had no right to be there. No place among them.

She turned to find the king, flanked by guards, rounding the corner into the chambers. Sigyn swiftly moved towards the doors, making a hasty exit. She bowed as the passed the Allfather on her way out.

“Girl,” said the Allfather. Sigyn paused at the doorway, slowly turning to make eye contact with the king. “You have saved hundreds of lives afflicted by the sickness. And what's more...” his somber tone wavered slightly. “You have saved my son. I shall not forget this. You have my gratitude.”

“You are most welcome, your majesty,” said Sigyn. She departed the chambers so that the royal family could enjoy Loki's recovery, though she wanted nothing more than to see him. For she was no noble, a mere apprentice of lowbirth, and did not belong there.

*

As the his health returned, Loki at last felt well enough to leave his bed. The servants swiftly set to work clearing his sheets, thoroughly scrubbing every surface of his chambers to ensure the sickness was completely excised from the palace.

While his chambers were cleaned, Loki joined his mother in her parlor one afternoon. They sat by the balcony, overlooking the garden.

“So the healers found an antidote at last,” Loki remarked, still unable to comprehend the sudden reversal of fortune. “May I ask what they discovered?”

Frigga smiled. “One brave soul was quite determined to save you, and endeavored to bring back water from the healing spring in Niflheim. You are quite cherished, my son.”

“Niflheim?” Loki said softly, thinking of the vicious creature that guarded the spring. No warrior had ever lived to tell the tale until now. “And who was the warrior who bested the creature?”

Frigga leaned forward. “It was no warrior.” Her eyes subtly shifted to the parlor window.

Loki followed Frigga's gaze down to their view of the garden. There, along the fountain steps, sat Sigyn, reading as she brushed her hair back from her face. Loki had not seen her since he'd woken, though she was never far from his thoughts.

Loki turned back to his mother, his eyes questioning.

Frigga nodded.

Loki looked out at the garden once more, his eyes back to Sigyn's figure. Looking at her now, she gave the vague impression of a lamb basking in the sunlight. To a passerby, she might appear incapable of harming even the smallest insect. And on most occasions, she would not. Yet within her lay a fortitude to rival or perhaps exceed many of the strongest warriors he'd known. “For me? Why?”

“Oh Loki,” Frigga said softly, a slight admonishment in her voice. “Do you not know?”

Loki recalled little of his days spent ailing, other than pain and dreamless sleep. But, now one memory, one little whisper, came to his mind. In his delirium, he thought it a mere trick of the fever. But now, he knew for certain whose voice he'd heard. And what she'd said to him.

*

Sigyn leaned back on the window seat in her small chamber in the servants' quarters as she surveyed her ruined cloak, hoping it was still salvageable despite the damage. The ends were shredded, with a good chunk missing from the middle. Still, she could make do. She slipped a threaded needle into the ends, stitching them back together bit by bit.

Contentment eased over her this night. The healing water did its work, alleviating those afflicted with the sweating sickness as the pestilence at last burned itself out. Finally she'd heard from her sister. The sickness more or less skipped over her village, save for a false alarm when one young lad splashed water over his face and covered his skin with red berries as a prank. One by one, her worries vanished. The sickness lost its grip on the realm, her family was safe. And Loki. Her prince.

He'd survived. She'd kept her distance from despite her great relief at his recovery, though she ached to see him again.

Her eyes glanced at the window, looking over the expanse of Asgard in the evening light. Behind her, reflected in the surface of the glass, she caught sight of a familiar face, watching her with a smile on his lips.

“Loki,” Sigyn couldn't help her grin as the prince stepped further into her chamber. His eyes were brighter, his skin restored to its proper coloring with no signs of red sores. His hair looked freshly washed and framed his face in soft waves. “My apologies. I did not hear your enter.” She moved to stand, but Loki held up his hand, stopping her.

“Don't get up,” Loki said softly, walking towards her. “Stay right where you are. I am enjoying the sight of you.”

Sigyn sat back down, but set her cloak aside, placing the needle and thread on top of the swath of fabric. Loki crossed the small room, taking a spot beside her on the windowsill. He eyed the sewing project on the ground.

“It was damaged,” Sigyn explained. “I've been trying to repair it.”

“We will get you a new one,” Loki replied. “Green, I think, would suit you nicely.”

“With a bit of yellow, perhaps?”

Loki reached forward, caressing her face. “As you wish.”

“It's good to see you recovered, my prince,” Sigyn said. “You had us all quite worried.”

“And as I understand it, I've you to thank for it,” said Loki. “Venturing all the way to Niflheim on your own. Besting a vicious creature.”

“It is what anyone would have done, if they wished to help someone they cared about,” Sigyn shrugged.

Loki cocked his head. “Your modesty is charming, my darling, but hardly in keeping with your accomplishments.” He leaned in closer so that their foreheads touched. The scent of citrus and sage that lingered in his hair filled the air between them. “Go on, indulge in your victory a bit. I won't tell anyone.”

“Very well.” Sigyn wrapped her arm around Loki's waist, pulling him into her embrace while her free hand grasped the dark hair near the back of his head. Loki gasped as she kissed him long and deep, surprising both of them with her ardor. She held him in her arms as much as her smaller stature would allow, and Loki relaxed into her embrace, returning her kiss with equal fervor as his hands ran up and down her back. She slid her hand under Loki's tunic, wanting to feel as much of him as possible.

“Oh Loki,” she breathed when they both paused for air. “To have you back in my arms _is_ my victory.” She caressed his cheek, grateful beyond measure to be with him once more. To see his eyes shine in the twilight rather than squeezed shut in agony.

“Is that so?” Loki raised an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Then I must _insist_ that you indulge further, my darling. Be an insufferable braggart, if you must.”

He allowed Sigyn to pull him over her once again, resting his head against her neck as she cradled him in her arms. He'd lost weight in the days since he'd fallen ill, and his body felt lighter over hers than she'd expected. But here he was, her beloved prince, his health restored. She savored how good it felt to caress his skin, to breathe in his scent, to taste his lips on hers.

_By the Norns, there is no adversary in the cosmos I would not face for him,_ Sigyn thought. _No being is too powerful to stop me protecting my sweet prince._

“The hour grows late,” Sigyn remarked after a while, her fingers entwined in Loki's inky black strands. “Perhaps we ought to take my victory celebration to your bedchamber.”

“I have spent far more time in my bedchamber over the past few days than I ever cared to. I'd prefer a change of bed for the time being,” Loki tapped his finger against his chin, looking around the room. “Ah,” he said, pointing at Sigyn's small, narrow bed in the corner. “ _That_ will do.”

Sigyn's quarters were far better furnished than that of many other palace workers, but still quite plain. She'd imagined Loki would find her bed a far cry from the luxuriant furnishings of his royal apartments, but find little reason to argue with his choice. They moved to the bed, the old springs squeaking from their weight, the small sheets barely covering both of their bodies.

Just as she fell asleep, with Loki's face nuzzled against the back of her neck, she heard him whisper:

“ _I love you too_.”

 


End file.
